Number 42
by Speedy Midori
Summary: Out of nowhere, Tron Bonne kidnaps Roll and brings her aboard the Gesellschaft––but her motivations behind this act are anyone's guess.  Mildly polished and enhanced for a new decade!


Roll couldn't move.

There were reasons for this, of course; they largely had to do with her arms being tied behind her back with some kind of rope, one that seemed to be made of a material that was so new and so advanced, the patent on it couldn't possibly have been filed yet.

Then again, pirates never were known for patents, for they were part of the law. Good. Perhaps she could steal the technology later–

Oh, bloody hell, what was she thinking? Back to the situation at hand here. She was tied up, bound by her wrists and legs; and even worse, she was blindfolded, so she had absolutely no idea _where_ she was.

At least, not by looking. Come on, Roll, girl, use those other four senses––one didn't become the genius they were today by being dependent on just one.

Her ears told her that she was on a ship of some sorts... yes, she could hear the engine around her.

It had to be HER ship. Not Roll's, but... hers. And for someone who built most of her inventions out of spare parts, _this_ vessel ran surprisingly well––especially considering that Roll and Megaman had shot it down no less than twice.

Okay, okay, no more sidetracking. She was on a ship––an airship––and if the engines were running, even as softly as they were, then it had to be flying. The surface she was forced to lie face up on wasn't hard at all. In fact, it was comfortable. And soft. And maybe even a little fluffy.

Come to think of it, it felt a whole lot like her bed at home. To think that that crazy girl lived as well as she did–

–what was that?

It sounded like a door opening... yes, it was! Something was walking––clanking?––towards her, and she felt the mattress depress as that something walked up next to her.

And then, she felt the blindfold being pulled off of her. Light assaulted her field of vision, too much for her to stand; until her eyes finally adjusted, and she saw...

Wow, she _had_ been right.

It was indeed a bedroom, furnished in violet and pink, as well as prominent placement of stylized metal skulls––the symbol of the Bonne family––in various places: some on the walls, one over the window, even one next to the potted plants. Spare parts littered a corner of the room, but the rest was spic and span, and there was even a piano just to the left of her; did Tron know how to play?

Roll dismissed the thought. Tron Bonne? Cultured? Surely, it was to laugh.

Oh, and there was also the matter of the small humanoid robot standing next to her face. It was built like a child––a small, square body, with an oversized cylindrical head to boot. It looked happy. Then again, Servbots––at least, that's what Roll thought they were called?––always seemed to be. Even after being shot down from riding missiles mid–flight.

Even so, this one seemed a little _too_ happy.

"Miss Tron says you're allowed to see now," said the little yellow thing. "Hi! My name is Servbot Number 14! What's your name?"

Too bewildered to even wonder––as she often did––just how these little things that "Miss Tron" always made could even talk, Roll cooperated and answered. "Roll."

For some reason, the Servbot looked shocked at this. "R–R–R–Roll?" it asked, backing away.

"Well... yes."

That _really_ got him scared. "D–d–d–don't hurt me! Please!" it said in a whiny voice.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"M–M–M–Miss T–T–Tron... s–she always tells us about you. Y–y–you're Roll, her sworn enemy! She says that you're a mean, horrible monster, and that you fire lasers from your eyes, leak poison gas from your nose, and can breathe fire! She fights you even though the odds are always against her, because you hold her true love captive!"

Roll rolled her eyes. Typical. Once a kook, always a kook. Who knew what other crazy things Tron had been telling them about her...

"Well, with everything she's done today, I might get mad enough _to_ spit fire at her," Roll replied.

At this, the Servbot got angry. And even more scared.

"_No!_ Don't hurt Miss Tron! ...I mean, you'll _never_ beat Miss Tron! Ever! We'll all see to that! Even against bad people like you, Miss Tron _always_ wins!"

_"Now hold on just a second, here!"_ Roll was finally becoming indignant. "Don't _I_ get a say in this? I'm not a bad person! Your 'Miss Tron' has just been feeding silly stories into your head! I was working on my ship's engine before going out on a dig. Something hit me over the head, and I'm guessing it was one of _you_ things. Next thing I know, I'm here, and before I kick your mistress's _butt_ for dragging me here in the first place, she owes me a huge explanation!"

_"Oh, so you want an explanation? Fine then, you asked for it!"_

Roll's eyebrows shot up at the sound of the new voice...

–––  
>"Number 42"<br>A _Mega Man Legends_ Fan Fiction by Speedy Midori  
>Original: June 2003<br>Revision: June 2011

All characters are copyrighted and owned wholly by Capcom.  
>Used without permission, but solely for entertainment; never for profit.<br>–––

A new figure had walked into the room, and was now staring down at the prone girl on the bed.

Her outfit was as outlandish as her personality, at least in Roll's opinion. Pink shoes, which matched her shirt, which in turn had the aforementioned symbol of the Bonnes on the chest. Said shirt was complemented by a blue jacket, and her wide, almost angular brown hairdo coordinated with the skin–tight brown slacks she wore.

Roll sighed. There was no mistaking that getup. It was definitely her. Now Roll's day was _truly_ complete.

"But you know what they say: be careful what you wish for," Tron Bonne said, her lips slowly forming into the evillest of smiles. "Number 14. Leave us."

"B–but Miss Tron, this is the feared monster Roll! Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"I said, 'leave.' Now. Or it's the torture chamber for two days! Oh, and we're installing a new electrocution machine tomorrow. So if you don't wanna be its first test subject, _get outta here!_" Tron commanded, bending down to look––and yell––directly at the little metal man from his level. Her usual round, cute face contorted into an expression of wrath––it was good for getting her point across.

"Y–y–yes, Miss Tron! _Yiiiiii!_" the Servbot said, running out as fast as it could.

"Hmph." Tron walked over to her bedroom door, closed it, and locked it. After that, she went back to Roll, briefly examining the condition of her captive.

She was secure; and honestly, she'd _better_ have been, it had taken Servbot R&D two whole months to come up with the material for that rope. This was actually the field test, and it looked as if it was holding up well. She would have to congratulate her little helpers later.

Roll herself, Tron noticed, dressed so... plainly compared to herself: simple red button–down shirt, short–shorts of the same color, and spiky blonde hair. All of these worked together to create a look which screamed "cute girl next door". How droll.

But clothes aside, it was incredible; this girl was so helpless right now, it'd be easy to do _anything_ to her. And with her here like this, even Megaman himself would have no choice but to do anything Tron asked... so long as it meant Roll stayed safe...

Ah, yes, 'safe.' Such a deliciously _relative_ term...

But unfortunately, that wouldn't do. Like her big brother Teisel said, she may be a pirate, but she wasn't a barbarian. Some things just didn't come by force. She sat down on the bed...

...and to Roll's complete and utter surprise, began untying the bonds around her captive's legs. There was a sheepish blush on her face as well.

"Roll, I know we have our differences," said Tron, "but don't take this the wrong way. Given our... history, I honestly felt this was the best way to get you here alone. But I'm not here to hurt you, okay?"

What the heck? Was Tron... apologizing? And not attacking? Roll decided to play along––it could still be a trap, and this was the safest way to judge. "Okay. I guess I can buy that," she said, nodding. "But... why?"

Throwing aside the leg–ropes––and forgetting to untie Roll's wrists; Roll would have said something, but again, she wanted to play it safe––Tron sat at the edge of the bed, put her hands on her knees, and sighed.

"Roll... it's hopeless."

Roll looked over at Tron. Never before had she looked this... melancholy. "What do you mean? What's hopeless?"

Tron sighed again. "I mean... you know... Megaman."

Oh, yes. Megaman. His recent effort to save the world had succeeded; that was the good news. The bad news is that he was now literally stuck on their planet's _moon_, and so far, nobody had been able to find a way to retrieve him. It was a problem that vexed the scientific and mechanical minds of Terra alike, including Roll and Tron themselves.

"We'll never get him down, you know. Not at this rate. The technology of the Ancients is a joke, but the even bigger joke is that it's still ahead of ours."

Roll shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. True, Tron was right in some respects, but... "But Tron, we both know that the world's best scientists are still analyzing the technology, trying to duplicate it and improve it! Surely, someday they'll–"

Tron cut her off. "Oh, _come on_, be realistic about this! _He's not coming back!_" Tron sniffled. "You and I are better than all of them, and _we_ couldn't even figure it out! Megaman's not coming back... ever..."

For a few brief moments, Roll was actually able to feel the pirate's pain––because she shared it too. "Tron..."

"Oh, it's... _(sniff)..._ it's all right, Roll," Tron said, her tone of voice suddenly changing. "Because you know what? I've gotten over it. Okay, so he's stuck up there, and I'm stuck down here. That's no reason for me to put my life on hold, is it?" She took a deep breath. "But I've lately been thinking... you know, with your brains, and my good looks _and_ brains, there'd be nothing that we couldn't do! No place we couldn't go! And no task we couldn't _conquer_," Tron finished, shaking a fist and grinning. "You and I have been fighting for so long, pitting our machines against each other, and so far, it's been one big stalemate!"

It took everything Roll had to stay silent and _not_ remind Tron of the fantasy world she clearly lived in––including the simple fact that she and Megaman had _blown up_ all of Tron's machines that they had come across to date. Sometimes repeatedly. Instead, she simply let Tron continue.

Which Tron did. "But think of what we could accomplish with our powers _combined_! Roll, I have something to ask you. I was actually going to ask Megaman on the chance that we got him back, but to heck with it." Tron leaned over, put her hands on Roll's shoulders, and looked into the blonde girl's eyes with wide ones of her own. This wasn't a joke; whatever this request was, Tron was dead serious.

"Roll Caskett, I want you to be my newest Servbot. Number 42. What do you say?"

Roll's immediate reply was more of a silent gape than anything actually approaching speech.

"Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking, but it's a lot better than it sounds!" Tron added, her expression brightening as she listed the possibilities. "You'll get lots of nice meals, and you'll have forty–one other friends to play with! You'll live on the Gesellschaft, which is fully cared for by the Servbots... huh, I guess that'd be you, too. Anyway, we've got a gym and a training room and a lab where you can work on your stuff and you'll be free to do whatever you want..." Suddenly, Tron's eyes glazed over slightly as she trailed her hands along Roll's shoulders and then off of them. "...as long as you make sure of one thing. My word is law, and disobedience will be punished severely!" Tron's expression brightened again. "But it's great fun, really! What do you say?"

Roll blinked.

Tron blinked back. "Well?..."

Roll blinked again.

Then she started laughing.

Okay, fine, it was totally against her promise to herself to remain tactful, but... she just couldn't hold it in anymore. _What was Tron thinking? _"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard in my _life_!" Roll said between laughs. "Hey, are we still near the Flutter? Just dock with it and drop me off, would you? And thanks. I needed a good laugh today..."

Tron's expression darkened. Severely. "I wasn't kidding, Roll."

Roll blinked again, but this time warily. And she quickly stopped laughing.

Okay, this wasn't good.

Befitting her self–image, Tron owned a royal–sized bed; one with bedposts that reached up almost all the way to the ceiling and supporting full–length curtains on all sides of said bed but the wall. In seconds, Roll found her left ankle being securely tied to its left post with the rope that had been binding her legs a little while ago.

"And I asked for an answer," Tron finished. "What is it?"

Okay, to hell with tact; Tron needed a wake–up call. "No, of _course_ not! What did you think, I was just going to up and accept your generous offer to _serve under_ you? If you need yet _another_ one of those stupid things," Roll sputtered, "why don't you just _make_ one?"

There. That ought to have shut her up. Or have done _something_ to her anyway. Unfortunately, Roll wasn't quite sure what, and still couldn't figure it out even as sky pirate's eyes narrowed into slits, and she stepped forward, forward... _too far forward_...

Tron was right over her now––her body kneeling on the bed, over Roll's frame, her hands resting on either side of her. She leaned even further forward.

"That's exactly what I had in mind, Roll," Tron said in a soft voice. "I expected that to be your answer, so I'm going to take your advice."

As before, Tron's hand touched Roll's shoulder, but instead of just staying there, it now slid and stroked, palm then fingers, back and forth...

"If I _have_ to create my new Servbot... one that will obey my every bidding, hang on my every word, and ask for more afterwards... then so be it..."

_What the...?_ Roll struggled, but the damned ropes were still too tight and too strong; her wrists still weren't moving, and her ankle was securely fastened to the post. None of them were going anywhere, so she exercised her final and only option: with her free leg, she kicked out at Tron.

And Tron promptly caught it with her arm, putting her own leg over it as she sat on her heels on the bed.

"Tsk, tsk," Tron said, looking down at Roll with almost manic eyes and an obsessive smile. "_Bad _little Servbot girl. You'll never complete your training if you do things like that!"

"I am not _training_ with you," Roll spat. "I am not doing anything except getting _out_ of here!"

And now it was Tron's turn to laugh. "Of course you are. Letting me restrain you was just a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security, wasn't it?"

Damn it. There was nothing Roll could say to that.

Still straddling her leg, Tron leaned over Roll again, this time reaching with a hand to stroke the blonde girl's cheek. "Don't worry, Roll. I'm nice to all of my Servbots... unless they're bad. But if you're good, the training will go well. Who knows? You may not even _want_ to graduate from it..."

Tron's hand went from Roll's cheek to her neck, again stroking, causing her longtime rival to close her eyes and squirm a just little bit... until finally, after some hesitation, she leant down completely, and tenderly pressed her lips to Roll's.

The effect was more pronounced for the both of them than Tron could ever have predicted. Roll's eyes widened in shock, of course; Tron had expected that, because she was no doubt a washcloth of a woman. Tron would have to work on that.

But what truly surprised Tron was her _own reaction_ to the contact. Roll's lips were warm and soft, even though they were somewhat constricted in surprise just then. The moment her own lips touched Roll's, she didn't want to let go. After a little while, she felt her entire body become as warm as the lips that her own held onto; and almost through a will of its own, Tron's tongue began taking small, experimental licks along the outside of Roll's mouth as well.

It was strange, really, too strange; Tron had always thought that if this were to happen, that it would be _Megaman_ she would be "training" right now, who she would be kneeling on all fours over right now, that she would be _kissing_ right now.

But things never went Tron's way.

And now she had no one.

No one, that is, except this one girl who had been the instrument of Megaman's repeated successes against her. The one girl who had kept Megaman _away_ from her. She should be vaporizing her in sheer vengeance, or at least sentencing her to the Servbot torture room for what she'd done, for convincing her crush to go on a quest that would ultimately leave him stranded on another celestial body–

_Servbot._

Oh, yes. That was right.

Tron _would_ have her justice after all.

As Tron pressed her body and lips closer and harder against the girl under her, she made a promise right then and there to herself: Roll would be hers.

Thinking of the possibilities of that promise made her hotter as she thought of each successive one. The skills her new recruit would bring... the respect... the complete and total _submission_... oh, _God_, now Tron wanted this sweet little vixen under her more than _ever...!_

...but only as as her new Servbot, that is. Mustn't forget that.

Tron Bonne shivered with anticipation despite the heat building within her. She could hardly wait. But she would have to.

For this would have to be perfect.

Almost forcing herself, Tron parted her lips from Roll's, got off of the bed, and stood up. "Training will begin in a short while," she said. "Remember, be good, or there will be consequences."

"Wh–... why are you _doing_ this?" was all that Roll could ask between breaths.

Tron took the moment from rummaging through her nearby clothes drawers to look straight into Roll's eyes, with ones filled with both sadness and determination.

"Because you're all that's left."

With that, and some garments from her drawer, Tron left her bedroom, leaving Roll alone again to wonder just what she'd meant.

–––

On the other side of the world...

Teisel Bonne scratched his head in confusion as he looked around the ruins he and his brother Bon were in.

"Well, this I just don't get. Tron's instruments are never wrong, but these mines were picked clean ages ago. There're no refractors here! There aren't even any Reaverbots to bust so we can break even on this week's food budget!"

Bon looked around as well, shaking his head as he observed the very same thing.

Teisel buried his head in his hands. "And to think, we burned all of that fuel getting here for nothing! They're going to give us a nickname if this keeps up, you know. I can see it now: 'The Bad–Luck Bonnes!' Oh, how mortifying..."

"Ba–buuu!" Bon Bonne said in response.

"You're right, Bon," Teisel agreed. "Let's just go home. Maybe Tron has an explanation for all of this. I know I certainly don't."

"Baa–buuuu."

The two walked––actually, Teisel walked, Bon just kind of floated––out of the mines, and prepared to climb back up into...

"...nothing? Bon, didn't Tron say she was going to park the Gesellschaft right out here?"

"Ba–buuuu!"

"No, I'm pretty sure she said she'd be here. This is the only entrance, and the mines cover most of this island."

"Ba... buuu...?

"If I knew, _I wouldn't be asking you!_" Teisel snapped. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he yelled out: _"Trooooooooon! Where aaaaare yooooouuuuu?"_

Bon joined in. _"Baaaaaaaaa–buuuuuuuuu?"_

–––

Even after an hour, Roll was unable to get free. Having only one leg and foot to work with didn't help matters; and, in what even Roll had to admit had been a very smart move, Tron had taken off her shoes so that it would hurt immensely if she were to try and, say, kick the bedpost that held her ankle until it broke in two.

An entire hour, with very little to do after having given up at escape. Roll had already begun to doze off, and would have, too, if the door hadn't opened again.

"Tron?..." Roll asked. But it wasn't. It was just more of her Servbots. And two of them were carrying a large tray between them. Another a mini–table.

"H–h–hello, Miss Roll," one of the Servbots said. "I'm Number 15, this is Number 39, and this is Number 8."

"Please don't hurt us," Number 8 said.

"We're brittle and break easily," Number 39 added.

Huh. "Miss Roll". Well, at least she'd moved up a bit.

"Miss Tron sent us to feed you," Number 15 said. With that, the Servbots hefted the covered tray on top of the mini–table next to the side of Roll's bed, and lifted the metal lid.

Inside was a freshly made spaghetti dinner. And it smelled _wonderful_.

"It... looks delicious," Roll said.

"Thank you!" Number 15 said with a smile. "We Servbots pride ourselves on our cooking skills. Besides, if we don't make the best food, Miss Tron makes us play with fire."

"Yeah. And that's not as fun as it sounds," added Number 8 sullenly.

The truth was, Roll couldn't wait to dig in. "Okay, well, untie my hands, and I'll certainly enjoy this wonderful meal!" For a small moment, Roll had forgotten that she was even a captive in the literal sense.

"Um... sorry, Miss Roll. We can't do that. Miss Tron specifically told us not to let you go," Number 15 said, reminding Roll of the weight of her situation.

"But that's okay," Number 39 said. "Miss Tron said that she wants _us_ to feed you, so you don't escape. It'll be super–fun!" he added, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the spaghetti. "Open wiiiide!"

The nerve of that girl! She was going to stoop so low as to... No. Roll had her limits, damn it all. "No," she said in defiance.

"What do you mean, 'no?' You have to eat! Or you won't be healthy!"

Again Roll refused Number 39's fork. "No way! I refuse to be fed like a little baby! Heck, I refuse to cooperate with anything so long as you have me like this! Get me out of here!"

"She's not going to eat," Number 39 said.

"This is bad," Number 15 said. "Very bad."

"What should we do?" Number 8 asked, perplexed.

_"We need to tell Miss Tron!"_ they all said together, and ran out of the room a second later.

Once more, the room was quiet. For a few minutes. Then, "Miss Tron" stormed in, and she looked angry. "My Servbots tell me that you refuse to eat the dinner they made. They worked very hard on it, you know; I told them to put the same love into it for you as they do for me. So what's the matter? Is our ill–gotten' cuisine too 'low–class' for your high–and mighty tastes?"

Roll's grin became as defiant as her tone of voice. "Hah. Maybe."

"_What?_ Why, you..." Tron tensed up so much that she was at a loss for words... and then she softened, again, as if she were holding something in. She probably was, at that. The Bonne pirate sat down next to Roll, and looked at her.

"Roll... come on. You've got to eat. You've got to keep your strength up. Why won't you?" Tron asked again, her voice filled with a surprising amount of empathy that had come out of nowhere.

"Why don't you let me _out_ of here? Tron, I know this isn't like you. Well... okay, I don't know. But you never struck me as the kind of person who'd just take someone off their own ship, shackle them and leave them to–"

"Look, I just can't _do_ that, okay?" Tron cut her off.

"But why?"

Silence ruled Tron's bedroom for a few moments. Then Tron exploded.

"Grrrrr... _fine_! You don't want any dinner? You don't _get_ any dinner! Servbots, let's go! And take the spaghetti with you! I'll just have a second helping and work it off my gorgeous figure tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss Tron!" the Servbots chorused, and did as they were commanded.

The door closed, and Roll was alone.

Again.

–––

_"This is the Kattelox Television Network, with a special report. We go live now to a bird's eye view of Bedrock Island, a remote, desolate island surrounded by water for miles around. Without air travel, escape is impossible for all but aquatic life. Unfortunately, two people have found themselves inexplicably stranded here: notorious air pirates Teisel and Bon Bonne. How they got here is anybody's guess. We go now to the KTVN NewsCopter..."_

_"HEY!" Teisel's voice could be heard, even at the high altitude of the newscopter. "Hey, you guys! Stop filming and GET US OFF OF THIS ROCK!"_

_"BAA–BUUUUU!"_

_"It has been suggested that a rescue team be sent out to retrieve these two individuals," the reporter continued, "however, after noting their crimes to society, that suggestion was shot down in favor of letting them serve time here on this deserted island as punishment. Truly, it would seem that nobody really cares. And now, the weather..."_

Tron gazed lazily at the news report on the television as she sat in the Gesellschaft's bridge, and sighed. It seemed as if she was only making things worse, creating problem after problem...

A Servbot walked in. "Miss Tron?"

Tron looked over towards the voice. This Servbot had a red disc on its head, as opposed to the others, who had gray ones. Tron knew it instantly––it was Servbot Number 1, her favorite, the first she'd ever completed, and ironically, the least quirky out of all of its brothers. Hardworking and loyal, old Number 1 could always be counted on.

Except when it came to being discreet.

"Miss Tron, when are we going to go get Master Teisel and Bon back?" it asked.

Tron sighed again, now sadder than before.

–––

The door to Tron's bedroom opened again, jolting Roll from her dreamless slumber. Outside, the sun had finally set, and stars littered the night sky. She yawned––pity she couldn't stretch––and allowed her eyes to adjust

to the light. As soon as she was able to see again, she saw Tron standing over her, in the same outfit she had been wearing all day. Perhaps she had been too distracted to change it, or just hadn't planned to.

"Hello, Roll," Tron said in a confident voice. "Your training begins now."

Roll could do nothing but roll her eyes, and, of course, wonder just what had gotten into this girl for the tenth time tonight.

"Now," Tron began, "if you want to be a proper Servbot, you must first learn how to address your mistress."

"Look, Tron, I'm not–"

"Ah, ah, ah," Tron corrected. "It's '_Miss'_ Tron. Nothing more, nothing less. Now you try!" she said cheerfully.

"Tron, seriously, listen to me."

"_Miss_ Tron."

"_Tron_..."

_"MISS TRON!"_ Tron barked, getting right in Roll's face and pinning her shoulders to the bed. "God, how hard is it to add a word? You're the most unruly Servbot I've ever come across! How am I supposed to train you if you don't even listen? Are your ears defective or something–"

That did it.

"Tron, _listen to yourself!_" Roll yelled, finally having snapped. "I am _not_ one of your _stupid machines!_ I am a human being, damn it! And I want you to let me _out_ of here! I'm tired, hungry and I do _not_ appreciate

having been tied up here for hours just because you have some sick control complex! Let me out! _LET ME OUT NOW!"_

Roll accentuated the last word with a _very_ hard kick to Tron's stomach, surprising them both by sending Tron flying off of the bed and onto the floor. Needless to say, the wind was easily knocked out of the pirate.

Roll hadn't wanted to do that. Really, she hadn't. But was there any other way? She just wanted _out_ of this stupid situation, and for the first time in a long time, she felt that she truly had to fight for something to go her way. At this point, Tron deserved that kick and more. Just let her come over here again––she'd give that idiot an extra one, or three; maybe even toss in a headbutt if Tron got close enough...

...wait. Was that... was Tron sobbing? Oh, gosh, she _was_.

After some time, Tron's head craned back up again to look at Roll's face. Her cheeks were puffy, and her entire face was streaked with tears, which were still flowing even now.

"What... what have I been doing?" Tron whispered. "Oh, God... _(sniff)..._ Roll, I'm sorry, I'm... _(sniff)..._ so, so sorry..." Tron buried her face in her hands, doing her best not to outright bawl like an infant, but still sobbing quite loudly.

Roll couldn't do much other than look, to be truthful, as well as shake her head. Looked like it was finally over.

Tron walked over and untied Roll's ankle and wrists. Finally free, Roll got up and reflexively stretched.

That was when Tron threw her arms around her now ex–captive. Her sobs had lessened now, but she was still quite shaky.

"Damn it... I really _am_ a barbarian, aren't I? I went and did something totally sick, and... and... oh, God, it wasn't supposed to be like this at all..."

"Tron, I..." was all Roll could say. At least the pirate had a conscience. And it looked as if something had been genuinely troubling her, for a long time.

While noting Tron's conscience, Roll cursed her own as she embraced Tron back, allowing her to continue her soft sobs until she was finally finished.

With a final sniff, Tron raised her head. "I'll set a course for your ship, assuming the navigational systems will still let us find it," she said solemnly. "I'll also have the Servbots bring you some dinner."

"Okay, but... can I eat it under my own power this time?"

Tron nodded. "Absolutely. I'm sorry about that, too."

Slowly, she walked out of the room, still a little shaky, and looking down at the floor the whole time.

–––

"...ba–buuu."

"You're right," Teisel sighed, "you're right. I don't think they're coming back either. Well, we're just going to have to learn to survive on this rock until someone picks us up. Bon, go get us some firewood."

"Ba–buuu?"

"What? I thought we gave you night vision goggles for your birthday! I know we did, I clearly remember stealing them from that military compound–"

"Ba–buuu, ba–buu baaa–buuuu."

"Oh. They're on the ship." Teisel's brow furrowed in thought. "I can barely see you as it is right now. We probably should have thought about 'survival' a few hours ago, shouldn't we have?"

"Baaaaaaaaaa–buuuuuuuuuu."

"You know," Teisel said," it's not often I actually get scared, but... this just might do it."

–––

Having never been on the Gesellschaft before, Roll didn't know the layout for the ship, so it took a while for her to actually find the bridge. The Servbots had brought her triple portions of spaghetti a little while ago,

and they smiled while she ate every bite. It truly had tasted as good as it had smelled.

So now Roll was full and in a slightly better mood. Slightly. She still had no idea as to what was going on or why she was even here; and after finding the training room, cafeteria, and Servbot torture room––which she preferred _not_ to ask about––she was wondering if she'd ever find Tron, and further, some answers.

Luckily, in the process of wandering around both physically and mentally, she'd finally found the pilots' room. Roll opened the door and walked inside.

It was large, and had several seats with controls in front of them. Roll wasn't sure what they were all for, but they were all unmanned except for the one at the bottom. Tron sat in that seat, guiding the Gesellschaft.

"It's pretty dark out so I'm taking it slow," Tron said, "but we should be reaching... the Flutter, is it?... in a little while. "The skies seem to be clear for us."

Roll nodded. "That's good to know." She walked up until she was next to Tron, and stood beside her, looking out of the large window in front of them.

A long silence followed. Roll really didn't want to start grilling Tron _again_ until she was sure the pirate could take it––and right now, it looked as if Tron was concentrating just a _little_ too hard on piloting

the ship. So she decided to start slow. "Tron?" she asked.

Tron didn't look away from the window. "Hmm?"

"Are... are you all right?"

"Whether I am or not doesn't matter right now," Tron answered. "Besides, after everything I did today, I don't really deserve to be. Did the Servbots give you dinner?"

"Yes, they did. You have excellent chefs."

"Thank you."

Still, Tron didn't look away from the window, until after a few more moments, Roll put her hand on Tron's shoulder. "Tron," Roll said. "Stop the ship. There's no hurry."

"Why?" Tron asked, but she pressed the button for the ship to stop and hover where it was anyway.

"Come on, Tron, stand up. Look at me." Roll tugged at Tron's arms a bit, and Tron followed her directions, standing up so that the two were face–to–face. Roll put her hands on Tron's shoulders, and made sure her voice was as sincere and non–threatening as possible.

"Tron, I'm not angry at you. At least, not anymore. But I need to know. Please. Why did you kidnap me and put me through all of that? I probably would have come willingly if you'd asked nicely, but instead..."

Tron didn't answer.

"Tron?"

"I... wanted..." The rest was cut off in a fit of mumbling.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted you... on my side," Tron finally said, looking away.

"But I don't have anything _against_ you," Roll said, "except when you do things like–"

"No, I mean, _really_ on my side. I really meant it back there when I said we'd make a pretty good team. Even if you have different tastes in machine parts," she added with a wink. A blush crept into her cheeks just then. "Plus, I have to admit it would have made things easier if, you know, we ever got Megaman back..."

"Ohhhh. _That's_ why you wanted me to be some kind of living Servbot." Roll grinned.

Tron did as well, though sheepishly. "Yeah..."

"But Tron, I'm not a Servbot, and I don't have any plans to be. I'm a living, breathing human being, and more importantly, I'm my own person. I _can't_ be your servant." The hands on Tron's shoulders encircled her neck, clasping together as Roll looked into her eyes just then. "But if you want me to be, I can be an ally... and I can be a friend."

And for the first time that night, Tron relaxed, with even her smile going lopsided. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad," she said.

"Good," Roll said with a chuckle, "because that's about all I can do."

Tron nodded, and then, after another long pause, she pulled Roll's arms off of her, and started walking. "Hey, follow me," she said. "I want to show you something."

"Hmm?" Roll asked, while following.

They went out of the bridge, turned left, turned right, and walked for minutes. The Gesellschaft was certainly a lot bigger than even Roll had imagined; compared to the Flutter in particular. Then again, if she were a

pirate, she could probably afford to build something this big herself with all the money she'd steal.

Wait, what was she thinking? She was no pirate. And she had no desire to live the life of one... even if it did seem sort of interesting.

"Here we are," Tron said, opening a door that they had just come to.

–––

"All Servbots clear the laboratory, please," Tron called into the room she had just opened.

'Laboratory?'

"Yes, Miss Tron!" came a chorus of happy voices from below her. Roll looked down to see three of the little yellow robots run out. Then she walked in and looked around.

Oh...

Oh, yes.

Oh, _wow_.

Roll could only gape. When it came to her brand of mechanics, she was used to working in her room with her trusty toolbox and nothing else. But what she saw before her was... was unthinkable by her standards. There were machines that could make anyone's life easier, a chemistry desk, a mechanical research and development corner... sure, the parts weren't completely state of the art, but the work environment was about five hundred steps up from what she had!

"Tron, this... this is _incredible_," Roll said, still gaping.

"You really think so?" Tron asked, obviously flattered.

"I do! Now I know how you manage to make all those complex machines out of low–quality parts!" Roll exclaimed with a light giggle.

"It's called being frugal," Tron said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, you can have free use of it whenever you want. Like I said before, with our resources and brainpower combined, we might actually get somewhere."

Roll's jaw nearly hit the ground. "You mean I can–"

"Yup."

Roll pointed to a device. "Including this thing with the–"

"That's right–"

Roll ran over to another. "And this? I haven't seen one of these in–"

Tron nodded, beaming. "Sure thing. And I won't even ask for anything in return. Well, except that you don't try to turn us in."

With that sentence, Roll remembered. "Tron," she sighed, "I hate to say this, but I'm not sure I can use your laboratory in good conscience. How much of this was paid for with stolen money?"

"Well... not all of it."

"That's surprising."

"Hey! We're Diggers too, you know! Good ones! We just happen to be pirates along with that. And we do our best to rob only from those worse than us." Tron's gaze lowered. "But sometimes, we can't help things. The thefts on Ryship Island two years back, and the ones we did during that whole Forbidden Island spectacle not too long ago were done out of desperation. In both cases, we were broke, starving, and only had this ship and ourselves as a family to keep us alive. We're Diggers first, Roll. Just like you and Megaman. We're only pirates when there's no other choice."

Tron's gaze lifted back up to Roll's. "Roll, I would truly consider it an honor for you to use my lab. It would do my heart good to see somebody who _didn't_ go down the path we did get some use out of it. Besides, I want to get to know the mind behind the person who's sent us packing almost every time we've tried a heist this year!" she said with a laugh. "And maybe if I do, we'll be enough in sync to figure out how to rescue a certain someone..."

Roll sighed, and smiled. "Well... when you put it like that... what choice do I have?"

"That's the spirit!" Tron said. "It's just like Teisel always says: 'We're Bonnes. When we see something we want, we take it!'"

"But I'm not a Bonne," Roll said.

"Well, no one's perfect," Tron replied with a snicker.

"Oh, funny. So, this afternoon, were you 'taking what you wanted' there, too?"

Tron blushed. "Hey, hey. I told you, I didn't know what else to do!"

"I don't believe that."

"Really! How was I supposed to know things would turn out like this?" Tron said.

Roll's accusations persisted. "And what about all that stuff you did when I was tied up? Especially..." she waned off. "You know..."

Tron's blush grew even redder. "...the kiss, right?"

Roll's matched it. "Among other things..."

"Well..." Tron leant against the wall of the lab. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"After learning that my best friend's practically an alien creation? Try me."

"Well..." Tron said, "we have bootlegged satellite TV. It has late–night programming. And why, I'm just an impressionable young girl who doesn't know any better," Tron said in a mock–helpless voice.

Roll looked at Tron. Hard.

Tron simply smiled back.

"...you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I just did."

"You're not going to tell me the _truth_, are you?"

"Believe what you want. Or don't," Tron said with an evil smile.

"Believe me, I don't. But there's one thing I do know..." Roll trailed off.

"What's that?"

"...you're not a bad kisser," Roll said.

_That_ got Tron's attention, full–on overtime. _"What?"_

"Well..." Roll said, shifting back and forth, "I was angry and tied up, but, you know, under other circumstances, I don't think I would have minded it. You were... nice with it. If you don't mind my saying so."

"N–n–no, n–not at all," Tron stammered. "Though... I think our circumstances certainly have changed by now..."

Roll nodded, looking up into her friendly rival's eyes with a smile. "I think so, too..."

Neither had to ask the other's permission––it was as if their minds had given it to each other in silent code. As close as the two were to each other already, they now drew even closer...

...and this time, unlike the last, Roll and Tron's lips met, of mutual accord.

It started out slow, at first, like most kisses do; the two girls' mouths locked together, as perfectly still as their bodies were at that moment. Neither of them could remember which one decided to explore first, or exactly how long it had taken for them to take the initiative, but ever so gradually, their mouths opened up to one another, their tongues began to play with one another, as the kiss, deep and involved as it was, went on... and on...

...and further still.

Tron's arms encircled Roll's body, and the latter returned with a similar embrace. And still the kiss persisted, now with both sets of arms pressing body against body, both young girls giving off quiet moans of pleasure and comfort upon contact...

...then, still lost in their meeting of mouths and bodies, Tron and Roll's hands fell from each others' shoulders, and began moving up and down each others' sides; roving... stroking... caressing...

...and heat from deep inside themselves welled up like a spring, spreading through their bodies as they both knew that things could go absolutely _anywhere_ from here, and together, they imagined the possibilities...

...until realization––and wonderment––caught up to them both.

They pulled apart, gasping, both to catch breath, and to cool down, as it were.

"W... wow..." was all Roll was able to get out between breaths.

"I... we... I think we... got a little carried away there," Tron said, huffing just as much. She put her hands on her knees for support––however, as weak as said knees felt right now, it simply made things worse.

Roll smiled, her gasps becoming smaller. "Y–yeah... we... lost ourselves... I _told_ you you were a good kisser."

"_Me?_ Hey, you're no slouch yourself," Tron shot back with a snicker. "Come on," she said, standing back up. Let's get back to the bridge. Oh, and Roll?"

"Hmm?"

Yet another hug was given to Roll by Tron, this one firm and reassuring, and full of happiness.

"Welcome to the fold," Tron said, and she meant every word of it.

–––

"So, before I went to go get you," Tron was telling Roll as they walked along another one of the Gesellschaft's hallways, "I led my brothers to a deserted island and dropped them off there. I'd expected this to be all over in a few hours, you see––I never expected to have left them out _this_ long..."

"But aren't you worried about them?" Roll asked.

"A little, maybe," Tron replied. "But I know my brothers, Teisel especially. They're the most resourceful people I've ever met, outside of you and Megaman. And that one policewoman..." she added as an afterthought.

"Who?"

"Long story, tell you later. We're almost at the bridge. Once we get there, would you mind helping me pick them back up?"

"Not at all," Roll replied.

"And would you, erm, mind playing along with whatever made up story I give them?" Tron asked, blushing sheepishly.

Roll laughed at that one. "Sure, sure. Half of this is my fault, anyway, what with my giving you such a hard time–"

A high, tinny voice interrupted Roll just then.

"OH, NO! LOOK OUT IN FROOOOOOOONT!"

Roll looked around. "Look out for what–"

But sadly, it was too late. Before Tron or Roll could see exactly _what_ they should have been looking out for, it hit them. Literally.

With a loud _sploosh_–ing sound.

"...oh, oh, _ewwwwwww!_" Tron wailed, as she found herself and her associate completely covered in... tomato sauce? Roll let out similar sounds of disgust.

Without even seeing, without even _wondering_ who had done it... Tron already knew. _"NUMBER TWENTY–SIIIIIIIIIIIX!"_

"Eeeep! M–M–M–Miss Tron, I'm s–s–s–sorryyyyy..."

Number 26 was one of Tron's "less efficient" inventions. Simply put, he was a bumbler of the highest caliber, a supreme klutz, and... one of the main cooks for the entire ship. Why he still held this position was anybody's guess.

Poor 26 had been carrying a fairly large tin of leftover spaghetti sauce from that night's dinner into storage. It was heavy, sort of. But he wouldn't need any help! He'd carry it all by himself, and impress Miss Tron!

That had been the plan, anyway. Of course, Miss Tron's currently seething face told him that he'd just failed something fierce.

"Ooooh, 26, what am I going to _do_ with you? Look, just... just get out of here," said Tron. "I want you and some Servbots to start cleaning up this mess, and I'll deal with you personally tomorrow." Tron's eyes narrowed as she looked at the quivering little robot. _"And there will be fire."_

"Oh, noooooooooo..." the Servbot wailed.

"No whining! Now get to cleaning! And before you do, tell Number 17 to draw my shower, please. Ugh, I can't believe this..."

"Y–yes, Miss Tron!" Number 26 ran off.

Tron turned to face Roll and sighed. "I'm sorry about this, Roll. I love these little guys with all my heart, but so help me, when they mess up, they mess up big. Especially Number 26. It never fails. But don't worry. It's just tomato sauce from dinner."

Roll took a small lick, as some of it had gotten on her face. "So it is," she smiled. "Can I get the recipe?"

Tron laughed. "Not a chance! But, hey," she said, getting an idea. "Okay. It's getting pretty late, and we're going to have to do this fast. Let's just clean off together. We'll use the shower in my bathroom, and you can borrow one of my outfits while the Servbots wash the one you've got on now." Noting Roll's quizzical look, she added, "Unless one of us feels like staying covered in goopy tomato sauce for twenty minutes. We might catch cold. That is, if the stuff doesn't stick or harden first. I'd let you use Teisel's tub, but his room is locked."

That seemed to do it. "All right," Roll said. "Thanks. Lead the way."

"Sure thing!" Tron made a U–turn and walked ahead. "Follow me."

Being behind Tron's back as she followed, Roll was unable see the anxious smile creeping across the pirate's face.

–––

"All right, I think that's all of it," Roll said, after some time in the running shower.

It hadn't taken very long for Roll and Tron to wash off the tomato sauce, but it _had_ been difficult. That darned Servbot had gotten it everywhere––on their clothes, on their arms and legs, and worst of all, in their hair. It, of course, had to be rinsed out as well. Using each others' eyes and Tron's detachable shower head, they'd each made sure that all of the traces of the sauce were gone from their heads especially.

However, in the end, this meant that both of their usual styles had since gone the way of the dinosaur. Tron's brown hair and Roll's blonde hair now hung down in long wet strands around themselves, reaching to their shoulders.

"I think you're right," Tron agreed after checking Roll's scalp one last time from the side. "Let me check the rest of you..."

And check Tron did.

Up and down, and up again; from her new friend's cute face, to her chest, to her tight, shapely butt, and to her wild, dripping hair. The sight of Roll in this state was a thing of wonder, of beauty.

Even not tied up as she'd been before, to Tron, Roll still looked as desirable as ever. In fact, with her spiked hair down and her completely nude body covered in sliding droplets of water, Roll's innocent appeal had only become more pronounced. The possibility, the _opportunity_, to still have this sweet, trusting girl standing right next to her sent heated shivers through every part of Tron Bonne's body, just as it had in her bedroom all those hours earlier.

This was it, then. A second chance. She saw what she wanted right in front of her. And as a Bonne, she knew what she had to do.

Tron smiled inwardly. Being a pirate never failed to have its perks.

"Oh... wait, I still see a few red spots on you," Tron finally said. "Must be the effects of the food coloring. Let me give you a once–over, I'll get them off, and we can get out of here."

"Are you sure you want to?" Roll asked. "If you want, I can just take care of it myself when I get back to the Flutter. It's no big deal."

With the possibility of how much she missed Megaman and silently wished that he could share this very moment with both of them, Tron didn't think she'd ever been more sure of anything else, ever.

"I insist," Tron replied, allowing herself a familiar mischievous grin. "After all, it was one of my robots that did this. I feel responsible." "But," she added with a smile, "If you want, you can give me another one of those wonderful kisses of yours, and the time will just fly by."

"I can do that," Roll answered with a laugh... and after waiting for Tron to come closer and face–to face, she obliged.

"Thank you... _mmmm..._"

Tron's concentration was now split in two; half of it completely distracted by the blonde girl's loving liplock, and the other half doing its best not to be distracted in kind, so that Tron could soap up her cloth and do what she'd promised in the first place.

Once their lips and tongues parted, Tron brought the cloth up to Roll's face––then, after looking into her eyes, began a series of soft, gentle scrubs against the innocent mechanic's left cheek. Roll closed her eyes and sighed at the contact, seeing Tron's smile meet with her own in her mind.

"Mm–hmm," Tron said idly, scrubbing just a little harder in various places. "Still a few specks left. Number 26 is so dead when I get him; for tarnishing a beautiful face like this if nothing else."

Roll could barely feel her blush under the heat of the shower water, but she knew it was there. "I'm sure it's... not his fault," Roll murmured. "And even if it was... it's something you made, isn't it? Just knowing that, I know it can't be all bad. You're a great inventor––the best I know, in fact. I want you to know that."

Hearing that compliment nearly made Tron drop the cloth. "R–Roll..." she gasped, then stammered, going from zero to crimson in two seconds. That had been one of the last things she'd ever expected to hear from someone who always used brand–new parts, had limited access to advanced technology, and had constantly lent a hand in destroying Tron's own machines.

Yet, even through all that, there was respect.

Tron could feel the last of her long–harbored jealousy melting away inside, felt it being replaced by affection, rising at such a level that she soon found herself having to blink back tears.

"Roll, I... I can't thank you enough..."

Wrapping her left arm around Roll's dripping body, Tron firmly pressed her lips to her friend's yet again, surprising the latter completely, before she could even say that Tron had been most welcome.

As Tron pursued her kiss, the cloth she was holding went down to Roll's neck, and what followed was not so much of a wash as it was a massage. Tron was now putting her fingers into her work, allowing the slippery, mildly abrasive cloth to combine with her squeezing hands; resulting in the relaxation of Roll's neck muscles, and in turn, Roll herself. Under treatment such as this, Roll saw it more than fit to return Tron's liplock in kind, pushing back with both her mouth and her tongue, attempting to channel her entire threshold of appreciation through that one part of her body alone.

Things went on for almost a full minute before before the two girls' sets of lips reluctantly parted, yet still hovered close, brushing together as their breaths came in deep, desperate gasps.

"...remind me to compliment you more often," Roll said, still catching her breath.

"Remind me to _let_ you," Tron said, doing the same. "All right, turn around, and hold still."

Roll nodded, and did so. "Okay."

Tron rinsed off the cloth, re–soaped it, and went to the back of Roll's neck, again half–washing, half–massaging. As before, her left arm wrapped around the innocent mechanic's body. With each passing second, Tron found herself pressing her body––_all_ of it––against her newfound friend, basking in both body heat and the warm feeling from knowing that she was more than welcome to do what she was doing.

Keeping this welcome in mind, Tron decided to get a little braver.

Tron's cloth slid downward to wash Roll's back, which she did for a minute, and then, after again rinsing and resoaping, went to her sides.

"Roll?"

"Hmmm... yes?" Roll answered in a slow voice.

"I'm done with your back. Turn just a little bit to the side. Otherwise my hands are going to have a tough time reaching where they have to."

"All right."

Still so trusting, so _willing_... or at least, Tron hoped.

Smiling up at her friend once again, Tron took Roll's wrist in her hands, and stroked the cloth back and forth gently across the mechanic's arm. She then reached and did the same with the other arm, all the while relishing the sight of the light blush creeping into Roll's cheeks.

"I think I've gotten just about all of them," Tron soon said. "Just a few more spots."

Roll nodded. "Go anywhere you need to," she replied.

Anywhere... oh, how badly Tron wanted to. But again, she knew the advantages of taking things slowly. If she gave into every single one of her urges now, if she didn't do this exactly right––it wasn't worth it to even try...

No.

The inventor cleared her mind, purging those ludicrous thoughts from it.

She was Tron Bonne.

She _always_ did things right.

At any rate, this was the closest thing to an invitation she was going to get.

Tron started at the center of Roll's neck, and directed her cloth–covered hand further down, until it reached the mechanic's chest... and then out to one side, cupping a familiarly–shaped mound of flesh. The sharp gasp was heard almost immediately.

"Oh! T... Tron? W... what are you...?" Roll asked between gasps as the inventor went back and forth over her chest with the moist, tickling cloth.

"Missed some spots, here," Tron answered, keeping her voice as level as possible. "But don't worry. I'll handle everything..."

If Roll had wanted to answer after that, she'd forgotten how. All that her world existed of right now were the wonderful feelings moving through her as the cloth did its work––no, _performed its magic_––on her small but _very_ sensitive breasts. Honestly, did Tron know what she was doing, or was the fact that Roll was now getting as hot on the inside as her skin had been from the shower water outside all pure coincidence?

She wasn't given time to reflect on this as much as she wanted to, because while she was being soaped up, Tron's body pressed up behind her own, and she could feel another something that was soft and wet––Tron's lips and tongue, she could only guess––lightly rubbing against the back and sides of her neck, again and again.

At the same time, Tron brought her free hand up so that in the end, _both _of Roll's breasts were being tended to simultaneously––one being tickled by a hot, dripping cloth, the other being outright _played with_ by soft fingers that were in the same condition.

–––

All of this... all of these wonderful feelings, all at the same time, and all so _sudden!_

The very first things that Roll flashed on were memories of her, in her room, with the door locked, touching herself in her most private, sensitive places while thinking of Megaman and herself, alone, in a setting not unlike this. She would think of Megaman... first kissing her... then moving his hands down and caressing her... nibbling everywhere... playing with her breasts...

In other words, doing the same things that Tron was doing to her now.

But, be it Megaman or Tron doing them, Roll was unable to deny that the effects were the same, and that she was more than happy with them.

"Oh... _oh, Tron..."_

The innocent blonde closed her eyes and tilted her neck towards the ceiling, her breaths growing deeper, her chest rising and falling to meet Tron's attending hands. She let out a long, loud moan of satisfaction at her friend's ministrations; and then unable to withhold her appreciation for them, did it again, even louder.

Roll's body squirmed in ecstasy, and she could feel her legs growing weaker by the second––even more so when it seemed that Tron's fingers were now concentrating solely on her nipples, which had long since hardened and were now converting all of Tron's rubs, touches and squeezes into pure electricity...

–––

...and as far as Tron was concerned, that was fine with her. In fact, this was going even better than she'd hoped.

_I told you I'd have you, Caskett,_ Tron thought to herself, increasing the tempo of both her breast–play and her necking, and being sure to slide as much of her body against the back of Roll's as possible.

_I said I'd make you mine..._

Slowly, subtly, and while still keeping her left hand firmly on Roll's left breast, the Bonne pirate slid the cloth languidly down the center of her friend's torso, then stomach, then hips, leaving a dripping, soapy trail in its wake.

_...and that you'd beg me to never leave!_

And then, Tron's cloth dropped from her hands to her floor. It was no longer needed. Steeling her nerves, Tron gave in to the last of her urges, and allowed her hand to slide the rest of the path to the junction of Roll's legs... and stay there.

"T–Tron... mmm... ahh... _aaaahhh!_"

Roll's response came in an _extremely_ loud moan, made even louder by Tron's fingers dancing everywhere they could––her inner thighs, her labia, her clitoris, and eventually, all coming together and grinding furiously back and forth against Roll's entrance.

Tron's tongue, meanwhile, took extra–long laps at Roll's neck now, and the hand on the blonde girl's breast squeezed even more firmly. Roll could feel her left nipple being tweaked madly, yet not enough to hurt by any means, only to stimulate; and as Tron's fingers and palm worked between her legs, she was wondering if it was possible to black out from sheer happiness.

The pirate could now easily hear Roll's loud, labored breaths mixing in with groans of pleasure very few seconds, rising in pitch. Truly, 'perfect' was the only way to describe how tings were going.

And then, in the midst of everything, Roll leaned back as far as she could, pressing the back of her body against Tron's front; and then, using all of her strength, whispered to the best of her current ability...

"M–Miss Tron... _(oh!)_... please... don't... _(gasp)_ stop..."

_Those words._

Those two words were all it took to render Tron as hot and bothered––nay, as _aroused_––as Roll had been for the last ten minutes. Immediately, the newfound admission of control went to the pretty pirate's head, and she felt her nipples becoming twice as hard as before, a heated slickness growing between her legs, and her chest heaving as she gasped raggedly in Roll's ear.

Even so, even with those words, it wasn't about ownership anymore, or even friendship.

All that mattered now was Roll's happiness.

Tron whispered in kind. "Anything for you, Number 42..."

Getting a new idea, Tron took the shower head into her left hand, and then sat Roll down; slowly, gently, knowing that Roll had little control of herself at the moment. Tron herself sat with her back against the shower stall, straddling Roll's backside as the latter sat directly in front of her, between Tron's legs.

"...my new favorite," Tron finished as she inserted two fingers into Roll's hot, wet sex at that very moment. "Time to rise off... inside and out..."

No more words were said, or needed to be––now, only Roll's lustful, ecstatic groans, gasps, sighs and moans could be heard, echoing throughout Tron's bathchamber and mingling with the spray of the shower, which was being directed all over Roll's body, washing away all traces of the soap from earlier.

Tron's fingers became quicker; in, out, in, out, making soft, watery noises as they did so, and Roll's hips thrust back to meet them in kind as she continued to moan for her mistress.

Harder... faster... lower... higher.

And then, Tron went for the finish. Moving the shower head as far as she could, Tron aimed the intensive spray directly for Roll's clitoris.

The result was both expected... and deafening.

"Oh... _oh_, oh, _Miss Troooooon...!_"

Finally, Roll orgasmed, signaled by a high–pitched squeal of release. Her body went taut, her inner muscles spasming around Tron's fingers, the rest of her body trembling in Tron's embrace.

For several seconds, Tron kept up her finger–thrusts and her "special" shower treatment. Finally, when it looked as if Roll might not have been able to take anymore, Tron removed her fingers and turned the shower's spray towards the drain, putting the head down altogether.

A short time later, Roll's body and mind calmed down, and she sank onto Tron's frame, completely and utterly spent, and with a very large smile on her face.

"Thank you, Miss Tron," Roll whispered before closing her eyes.

Tron looked down at her friend's smiling face, an odd, yet satisfied feeling passing through her as she did so. There was something to be said, then, about knowing that she thought beyond herself, and allowed someone else to be completely happy.

New Servbot or no, Tron was happy as well.

You're welcome... Roll," the pirate finally said.

–––

Some time later, Tron stepped out of the bath, and into her bedroom, wearing nothing but a green towel.

Now, if the Servbots had done their job, two outfits should be lying on the bed straight ahead. She looked. Good. There they were. Even Roll's shirts, shorts, bra and panties were clean.

There were times that Tron appreciated building the Servbots more than usual. This was one of them.

"Hey, Roll," she called out. "Our clothes are ready! Come on out, we'll put them on, and we can go pick up my brothers and drop you off... Roll?"

That was odd. She couldn't hear anything. She looked behind her, saw nobody.

She looked around in front of her. The door was still closed and locked.

"Roll? Where'd you go?"

Again, Tron heard nothing.

Then, she only felt.

She felt a pair of soft arms circle around and embrace her body from behind.

She felt warm breaths in her ear.

Then, and only then, did she hear. A slow, longing, musical whisper. _"Miss Trooooon..."_

"Roll?" Tron asked uneasily... before feeling a sudden draft, and seeing her towel––her only covering––being flung across the room. She turned around. "What are you–"

Tron felt a finger being pressed to her lips, and saw Roll––a similarly towel–less, nude, Roll––smile.

_Tron's_ smile. Her own mischievous smile, which Tron was sure she'd patented at some point.

But for some reason, on Roll, that smile looked... foreign... and fun.

"Shhhhh," Roll whispered, walking forward and forcing Tron to walk backwards, in turn, leading both of them to the Bonne pirate's soft bed. "Your newest Servbot wishes to show its appreciation... and serve its new mistress."

Tron blinked. Was she _serious?_

Her mental query was answered by a deep, forceful kiss, taking place as Roll lowered Tron backwards onto her own bed. Soon, they were positioned square in the center of it, and Roll was free to straddle Tron, and then lower herself directly on top of the inventor's body.

Tron looked up into Roll's eyes. They seemed... different somehow. Glazed. Determined. Liberated.

Free.

Had her plan worked a little _too_ well?

"You are so _very beautiful_, Miss Tron," Roll whispered; and then, almost completely mirroring Tron's actions from before, began nibbling and licking on the pirate's neck, and at the same time, squeezing what she could of Tron's breasts from above.

And now, it was Tron's turn to groan as loud as she could in sheer approval, as she felt her nipples being pinched, and hardening in Roll's fingers...

Roll's soft, loving whispers persisted. "I am only happy if Miss Tron is happy," Tron could hear her say. "Is Miss Tron happy?"

Tron closed her eyes, heaving her chest up to meet Roll's hands and breasts which were pressed against her own. "Ahh... oh, yes, Number 42, _yes!_... ahh..."

"Good," was Roll's demure response. "And now, for something else she will like..."

Just as Tron wondered what Roll could possibly know about what Tron liked... her hips moved. Roll's hips were moving, grinding into her own, grinding her sex into hers, one clit into another...

...and then the _rest_ of her body followed suit, their breasts rubbing against each other, Roll grunting determinedly as she ground herself into Tron, Tron moaning as she thrust back up against her 'servant'...

"Yes, yes..." Roll's low shuddering voice was now barely audible against Tron's loud, passionate yells. "Come for me, Miss Tron..." she commanded, as she ground faster and harder, holding her 'mistress' close...

Until finally, Tron's turn to squeal loudly through the Gesellschaft came––only, instead of it being heard, it was stifled by Roll firmly pasting her mouth onto Tron's, and thrusting her tongue inward as Tron's eyes opened wide, and her body did its best to spasm of its own accord. Roll's hip–grinds and thrusts, however, continued until she came as well, for the second time that night.

In time, a large wet spot could be seen on Tron Bonne's bed, accompanied by several sweatdrop spots scattered throughout. Tron herself collapsed limply on her back with a long sigh, and Roll did the same, directly on Tron.

"If you want," Roll murmured, "we can pick your brothers up now..."

"In... in a little while," Tron gasped.

For the first time in a long time that night, Tron's room was silent as the two girls lay on top of each other, unmoving, and satisfied.

–––

The next morning...

"So you see, Teisel, without Roll's help, I never would have found you. Loath as I was to accept it," Tron said, sneaking in a quick wink to the person she'd just mentioned.

Roll smiled, and winked back.

"I just don't get it," Teisel said, scratching his head. "How can your refractor scanners _and _the Gesellschaft's main navigational system go haywire on the very same day?"

"I found a magnet inside the main computer," Roll said, hoping that that would be enough. Tron had said that neither of her brothers were very computer–savvy, but one never knew. "It sort of scrambled things, but it was a small one. It wasn't able to do any damage I couldn't fix."

"It was probably one of the Servbots," Tron added. "Don't worry, I'll punish them good!"

"Huh," Teisel said after mulling it over for a while. "Well, see that you do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my room, shower, and then sleep for twenty hours so I can forget that yesterday ever happened! Oh, my back... Tron, you're in charge..."

"Baa–buuu..." Bon walked off, obviously planning to do the same.

Now alone again on the bridge, Tron gave Roll a hug. "Thanks a lot."

Roll smiled. "Hey, it was my butt on the line too, you know."

Tron smiled back––not her usual troublemaker's smile, but a sincere, caring one. "Not just for this. I mean.. for everything. For understanding. And for..." Tron trailed off, but her reddening face spoke volumes after that.

Roll's face followed suit. "It was my pleasure. Literally. And hey, maybe with your lab and my know–how, we'll finally figure out a way to get Megaman down from the moon."

"I'd like that a lot," Tron replied. "Whenever you want to work together, just let me know."

"I will."

As Roll's ship came into view, the two machinists shared one last embrace... and one last long French kiss.

"There's the Flutter," Tron said with a sigh as their lips parted. "Just take the elevator down, and go straight ahead. We'll be grounded along with it by then. Take care of yourself, Roll."

"You too. Goodbye... Miss Tron," Roll said with a wink. Then she walked out.

Tron stared at the Flutter for a long time after it flew off.

"There goes the best Servbot I ever had," she said to nobody in particular. "Speaking of which..."

Pushing a button on the bridge console, Tron accessed the public address system. "Attention, Number 26! Report to the Torture Room, _immediately!_ It's time you got what was coming to you!"

–––

It was a good thing that Servbots didn't have waste disposal systems, because if they had, Number 26 would be making quite the mess right now.

Tron Bonne stood proudly before the hapless yellow thing, looking down at it from on high. "Did you think I would forget about last night? How you got us completely covered in last night's dinner just because you were too proud to get anyone to help you?"

Number 26 caught a bad case of the shakes. "M–M–Miss T–Tron, I–I–I'm s–so sorry! Please, give me another ch–chance..."

"No! The time for 'chances' is over! I've got just one thing to say to you..."

"Oh, nooooooo!"

"Oh, yes."

Tron smiled, picked the Servbot up, and cradled it in her arms with a mother's love.

"Keep up the good work!" she said happily.

Number 26 blinked in elated confusion. "Um... yes, Miss Tron!"


End file.
